Doubts
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Tim is growing bored with the work he does at NCIS and wants something new in his life. When he is offered a choice, will he jump at the chance or will he choose to stay behind with the team he's worked with for six years? Aliyah and Legend spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

The clock changed from 1:43am to 1:44am and Tim was still awake, still sitting in his desk chair and staring off into space. He had been there for almost two hours and his back was beginning to cramp from the position. Going to bed, though, he knew would be no help; he had tossed and turned for an hour before giving up and coming out to the living area. He wasn't sure why he thought that would help. It was only making it worse, forcing him to think about the situation.

He spun the chair around restlessly. He caught sight of his degrees, framed and hanging on the wall. Bachelors in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins. Masters in Computer Forensics from MIT. With degrees like that and his skills with computers and technology, he could be working for some high end company, earning six figures easy.

Tim shook his head at the last thought. This wasn't about the money. It was about the work. He had always enjoyed working for NCIS, especially on Gibbs' team. Even through the hazing and teasing and taunting, it had been a great job, one he considered himself lucky to have. Now, though, he felt himself growing restless and doubtful and…well, bored. Maybe it was because at first, it all had seemed so exciting for him, like a young boy watching an action movie. The guns and the chases, the criminals and the interrogations…it all gave him such an adrenaline rush.

Now, after six years of doing the same thing day in and day out, the rush was wearing off and he felt so useless.

Why had he wasted all those years in college and not really put them to use? His computer skills were used, certainly, but not to the extent he knew they could be. The only time he got that same adrenaline rush anymore was when he was asked to hack another agency.

Tim would never admit it to anyone, but his time spent in the Cyber Crimes Unit cracking that code for Vance had been the most exhilarating time he'd had in a while. Sure he missed the team and was relieved when they were all reassembled again. Cyber Crimes had been drafty, the workers, while nice, far too clingy for Tim's taste; but the code, that wonderful and complex code! It had pushed Tim and had challenged his skills in a way that they hadn't been challenged in quite some time.

He spun his chair around again and leaned against the desk, his chin resting atop his folded arms. It was 2:00am now. What time would it be in L.A., he wondered. He calculated it would be 11:00pm, the same time it had been in D.C. when he'd tried to go to bed.

He hadn't returned to the NCIS headquarters in L.A. since his trip there with Gibbs the previous year, though he'd thought about his experience there often. Much like his first couple of years at NCIS, his time spent in L.A. had been exciting and new. An entire team who did undercover work, the very notion that at any moment something could go wrong, and techno toys—God, how he loved using those gadgets! It gave him that adrenaline rush he had so missed. Best of all, not a single person on that team even thought about calling him a geek. They all saw him as an equal and a kindred spirit. They were his kind of people.

When he and Gibbs left, the idea of staying behind in L.A. hadn't even occurred to Tim. Sure, the visit had been great and he had briefly considered smuggling a couple of the gadgets out beneath his shirt, but D.C. was his home and the team was his work family. L.A. had been a fun and exciting vacation from the norm, but then it was back to work as usual.

Tim thought back over everything. He thought back to his FLETC training and how excited he'd been at the idea of being part of law enforcement. He thought back to his first day at Norfolk, his first real case, and his first time working with Gibbs. He thought back to the day he was promoted to a full time agent (albeit a probationary full time agent). He thought back to his first time shooting a gun…his first time hitting his mark…his first time killing someone. Events which had been so emotional at the time now did little to affect him.

The minutes ticked by on the clock and Tim was no sooner to ending his thoughts than he had been hours earlier. Eventually, his tired mind and body forced his eyes closed. As he slept there at the desk, his head cradled in his arms, his mind was still racing.

Even in sleep, he got little rest.

* * *

**AN:** This was written for the Ending Seven Challenge, the point of which was to try and guess how Season Seven of NCIS will end. This is by no means a true depiction of how it will end, just my own idea of how I kind of hope it will end. One of the challenge requirements was that the story end with a cliffhanger (as the season finales so often do) so this will have a cliffhanger. That said, I'm already working on a sequel to resolve the cliffhanger, so no, I'm not going to leave you guys hanging there.

The story is already finished. As per usual, one chapter a day!


	2. Chapter 2

_The Previous Day_

"Director Vance? You wanted to speak to me?"

Leon Vance looked up to see Agent McGee peeking through the door uncertainly. Vance had known the young man for two years and though Agent McGee had no problem asserting himself when he saw necessary, whenever he was called to Vance's office he took on the demeanor of a young school boy who was being called to the principal's office.

"Come in, McGee. Have a seat."

Tim did as he was told, folding his hands in his lap. His knee was bouncing up and down as he sat there; it was a nervous habit that had plagued him for years. "Is there something wrong, sir?" he asked. He hoped Vance hadn't found out about him hacking into the Playboy website to get Tony those exclusive pictures of Miss March. He would never have used his computer skills for such lascivious purposes if he hadn't lost a bet with the older agent; though he couldn't deny it had given him a bit of a satisfactory rush.

"Nothing wrong at all. I just wanted to ask how things were."

"Everything's fine, sir," he said, raising an eyebrow uncertainly.

"The team is okay?" he asked. "I know that Officer David's return was met with mixed emotions."

"No," Tim interrupted firmly. "No, we were all happy for Ziva to come back." Tim didn't just mean Ziva returning to NCIS; he also meant her escape from the terrorist group who had held her hostage. It had been a difficult and trying period for them all, but they'd managed to get through it, though no one could deny Ziva wasn't quite the same woman she had been when she'd left.

Vance had heard whispers among other NCIS employees regarding Ziva's self-dismissal from Gibbs' team. Said whispers came from people who barely knew the Israeli woman, who only knew the minimum of facts as to what had happened. Things were not back to normal among the employees, but Vance didn't feel the need to bring that up. After all, that had nothing to do with this. "And how are you feeling on the team, Agent McGee?"

"Me?" Tim asked in surprise. He wasn't very accustomed to people asking him how he was feeling with his current situation, so the question actually made him stop and think before he responded. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

Director Vance shrugged. "I know you're a very academically inclined person and the work of a field agent can sometimes lean more to the physical side. I would hate for you to get bored with your work."

In truth, Tim _had_ begun to feel a bit bored, like he was in a rut. Sure, he loved the job and the agency, but there was a certain degree of monotony to it.

"Not bored at all," he said, pushing away his thoughts. "Who could get bored with law enforcement? It's like living in an action film."

"I wouldn't go that far, Agent McGee," Vance commented with a slight smile. "I don't deny that field work can be fun; I was only questioning how advanced and challenging it was for you."

"Challenging?"

"You skipped ahead two grades when you were in school, correct?" Vance asked, changing tactics.

"Yes, sir. I skipped 2nd grade and then later I skipped 8th grade."

"You were too advanced for your grade and got bored too easily," he surmised.

Tim nodded. "I, uh, would always finish my work before the other students. I don't think the teachers would have noticed, but I got in the habit of goofing off after I'd finished my work," he admitted.

Vance had to grin. Timothy McGee had never struck him as the goofing off type.

"But I'm not bored," Tim added hastily. "And even if I was…I would never goof off on agency time, sir."

"I know, McGee."

Tim could sense there was an underlying point to this. "Sir, could you please tell me what this all about?"

"Of course," he said with a nod. "This morning, I received notice of a job opening with the L.A. agency."

"L.A.?" Tim echoed, trying—and failing—to hide his interest.

"I know that you enjoyed your time spent there with Agent Gibbs."

Tim shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner.

"It's okay to say so," Vance said, noticing the young agent's reluctance. "I've been there a few times myself and was very impressed by the equipment. Seems like heaven for a man like you. Technology is just up your alley, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"They want an agent with excellent computer skills, a vast knowledge of technology, and the capability to use that technology. My mind immediately went to you."

"Thank you, sir," Tim said.

Vance didn't respond right away and Tim knew the Director was waiting for an answer. "That's a wonderful offer, Director. I just don't think I can accept."

"And why is that?"

Why? A million reasons ran through Tim's head. He was happy here. He liked working on Gibbs' team. His friends were here. "My apartment's here," he blurted out. He winced.

Vance looked amused. "I am almost certain you would be able to track down an apartment in L.A."

"I know. I just meant that I'm not sure I want to leave Gibbs' team." Had he said "not sure"? That implied that there was a chance he _did_ want to leave the team. But he didn't…right?

"I didn't expect you to decide this quickly, McGee. I'm sure you'll want to think about the offer, weigh the pros and cons. That's perfectly fine."

"When would I need to give you a definite answer?" he asked. Inside, he mentally berated himself for even asking about a deadline. He wasn't going to accept this offer…was he?

"I'll give you until Friday to give me your decision."

Tim nodded. "Thank you, sir. Does anyone else know about this offer?"

"No, and, if you'd like, I'll keep it just between us."

"Yes, I'd like that." The last thing Tim needed while he mulled over the prospect of a new job was for the team to add their two cents. He already knew what they would say. "Is that's all…" he said as he stood.

"Just one more thing," Vance interrupted. "I know you feel a loyalty to your team. Gibbs wouldn't have you if you didn't. However, all teams will break up eventually. I hope you don't pass up this opportunity if it's something you truly want."

"I won't," Tim promised. And it was true. Tim wasn't going to let his co-workers decide this for him; his decision would be made based on whether or not he wanted the new position.

Now he needed to decide if he did.


	3. Chapter 3

"So what did our fearless director want?" Tony asked after Tim had returned to the squad room.

"Just a talk. Computer stuff, you know," Tim said, hoping no one would ask for more details. It wasn't really a lie, either; they _had_ been talking about computers, namely Tim's abilities with them.

Tony held up a hand, saying, "Don't bore me with the details, please."

Despite the serious decision weighing on his mind, Tim hid a grin as he slid back behind his desk. Tony had become completely predictable in the seven years they'd known each other. Anytime Tim didn't want him to pry, he only needed to start spouting off about computers and the older agent's eyes would glaze over in boredom as he tuned Tim out. "I won't, Tony, don't worry."

"I think Vance just likes calling you into his office," Tony theorized, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively to drive home his point. "I think he's got a man-crush on you, McGee."

"A man-crush, Tony?" Tim asked with a roll of his eyes.

"He does seem quite taken with you, McGee," Ziva added, "though not in the way Tony suggests. I've heard murmuring that Vance wants more intellectual agents in the agency. It makes sense he would look to you as an example of that."

Tim digested her comment, flattered at the very idea. It was true that he and Vance were both skilled in the area of computers and technology, something that had given them a mutual respect for one another when Vance was named the new director. While Tim had often thought about the agency making a few changes in hiring decisions, he never thought anyone, least of all the director, would agree with him.

"Gibbs would never allow it," Tony interjected, disrupting Tim's thoughts.

"Gibbs is not the Director of NCIS, Tony."

"Well, I think the last thing we need are more egg-heads. I mean, McGee has his perks," Tony commented in the same tone one might comment on a certain brand of car. "Lucky for us, he can handle a gun as well as use a computer, but I can't say the same would be true for all geeks."

"Gee, thanks," Tim said sarcastically.

"Hey! I complimented you!" Tony said in defense of his comments. "I was just saying–"

"I _know_ what you were saying, Tony."

Ziva took it upon herself to step in as peacemaker. "I think that both brains and brawn are equally necessary in law enforcement. Obviously, some people are going to be better in one area than in the other. As Tony has said, some geeks might not be able to handle a gun; likewise," she continued with a pointed look in Tony's direction, "some jocks might not be able to best asses a crime scene. It does not make either better than the other."

"Exactly," Tony agreed. He gave Tim a look. "It wasn't a personal attack on you," he told the young agent sincerely. It made Tim retract his previous notion that Tony had become completely predictable. The older agent had done a lot of growing up, especially in the past year. While his sarcastic and teasing nature was still present and probably always would be, Tony was more aware of how his comments came across to other people and was more willing to make amends when feelings were hurt.

Tim offered a grin as a sign of truce. "I know, Tony. I just get…sensitive about the subject."

"McGee, you are a very able agent," Ziva said. "While you are intelligent and more technologically skilled, I hardly think of you as a geek. In fact, your work as of late has been far more physical than technical."

He knew her observation was meant to make him feel better, but it only served to further sour Tim's mood. Even Ziva noticed that his computer skills had been underused lately.

"I don't mind being thought of as a geek, though," he said. "It's a part of who I am and I don't want to lose that."

"And you think you are?"

"You said yourself that I haven't done anything technical in a while."

"That does not mean you are not still the same agent you were."

"Face it, Probie," Tony called out. "You'll _always_ be a geek."

"But I'm an MIT grad! We're not supposed to chase after bad guys or get tasered or sprayed in the eyes with mace."

Tony and Ziva exchanged concerned glances across the bull pen. "It sounds as though you do not wish to be here anymore," Ziva said quietly.

"Of course I do!" Tim said. There wasn't as much force behind his comment than he wanted there to be. "I just don't want to waste away my technological skills."

"You're not," Tony said with a laugh. "Just yesterday you got me those pics of Miss March. Think I could have gotten them without your mad hacking skills?"

"Hacking skills have emotions?"

Neither man acknowledged Ziva's question.

"Great! I spent those years in college so I could download naked pictures. That makes me feel loads better, Tony. Thanks!"

"Hey, I was just trying to help!"

"I know," Tim said resignedly as he rubbed the space between his eyebrows. "I know…I'm sorry. I've just been feeling frustrated…like I'm wasting away."

Tony leveled him with a suspicious look. "You're not planning on leaving NCIS, are you?"

Tim didn't want to pause before answering; he knew that sometimes silence said more than any words could. So he said the first thing he could. "Of course I'm not planning to leave NCIS!" And it was true; not matter what he chose, he'd still be an NCIS employee…he just might on the other side of the country.


	4. Chapter 4

It was the Wednesday after Vance had offered Tim the position in L.A. and the young agent still hadn't made up his mind about whether or not he would take the job. Further more, he was just dying to tell someone about the offer and get their opinion. The problem there, though, was that he had a limited number of people to whom he could divulge such information.

He'd thought about asking his family what they though he should do, but he knew that would lead right back to him making the decision. Sarah and his parents would tell him to do what his heart told him to do or something equally cliché. Beside, his family didn't understand NCIS and the team. They only knew the surface of it and what he told them; they couldn't possibly understand how difficult a decision this really was.

He had already decided against telling Gibbs, Tony, or Ziva. Much like how his family didn't understand how hard it might be to leave D.C., the team—his _other_ family—didn't understand how hard it might be to stay in D.C. That went doubly for Abby, who would handcuff Tim to his desk if she even suspected he was thinking of leaving, and Vance had already declared himself a neutral party in the decision.

That left one other person Tim could see himself going to for advice…

When the double doors slid open, Tim was grateful to see that Jimmy was nowhere in sight. As much as he liked the M.E. assistant, Tim wasn't so sure he was good at keeping secrets. If Jimmy knew Tim was even considering another job, he'd soon let it slip to the rest of the team, even accidentally.

"Timothy," Ducky greeted from his desk, "what brings you down to my neck of the woods?"

Truthfully, Tim was on his lunch break. He wasn't that hungry, though, so he had taken the opportunity to secretly slip down to autopsy. If there was anyone he could trust to give him sage advice, it was the medical examiner. "I'm in need of a little advice, Ducky."

"Not medical advice, I hope?"

"No…just decision making advice."

"Ah. Well, in that case, you have my fullest attention.'

Tim leaned against one of the tables, arms crossed in front of his chest as he tried to figure out how to best word the question at hand. "I can't talk to anyone else because I don't think they'd be able to give me advice without being biased," he explained.

"Nor might I, depending on what the question is."

"But you're impartial enough to not let your personal opinions cloud your judgment."

"Judgment of what?"

He heaved a great sigh. "On whether or not I should stay."

"You're thinking of leaving NCIS?"

"Not leaving exactly, just a transfer. There's an opening at L.A. headquarters."

Ducky nodded pensively. "Yes, I recall you were quite taken with them during your visit last year. They are quite advanced in the technological aspects of your job, aren't they? I imagine it was like being a child in a candy store for you."

Tim nodded emphatically. He couldn't deny how much he'd enjoyed his visit to L.A…nor could he deny the slight letdown he'd felt upon his return to D.C. "It was so…invigorating! And…well…since I've come back, nothing here has really matched that. Except for Ziva returning, of course." he added sheepishly.

"Of course."

"I was having such a great time at the L.A. headquarters. No head smacks, no name calling…I was almost dreading having to come back." He looked down at his shoes and shrugged. "I kind of feel guilty that I liked it so much."

"There is no reason to feel guilty for enjoying something, Timothy. You have been here for years and have fallen into a routine which might seem monotonous some days. It's always nice to have a change of pace. That's why people take vacations; to see and experience new things. It doesn't mean you don't appreciate the home you already have. After a while, a vacation too begins to fall into monotony."

"So you think I should turn down the job offer?"

Ducky shook his head. "I didn't say that."

"Then you think I should take it?"

"I didn't say that either. Your decision is not mine to make. I do, however, think you should not worry so much about what the others will think, nor should you feel you are doing a disservice to anyone by leaving."

Tim leaned back against the table again, a small pout forming on his lips. He was back to square one.

Ducky sensed Tim's apprehension. "You know, in some religions, people are sent out to spread their faith in different communities. Priests, nuns, bishops, missionaries; they all are sent where it is believed they are most needed and they do not question it." He paused and gauged Tim's response. "I've always found it fascinating that someone could so willingly go out into a new place on faith alone. But I think that knowing you are most needed there makes it that much simpler."

"So you're saying I should pray to find out my answer?"

"Not quite, though I doubt that asking for a little spiritual guidance could hurt. What I mean is that sometimes the question you should ask yourself isn't where you are necessarily happiest, but where you believe your skills are best utilized."

"And how do I figure that out?"

Ducky shrugged in response. "It will be different for each person." It hadn't been what Tim wanted to hear, that much was obvious to Ducky.

"I'm just…I'm not sure how to go about deciding this." Tim tended to make decisions based on what his mind told him was right. After six years on Gibbs' team, he had pushed himself to also factor in what other parts of him—his heart, his gut, his soul—told him, but, being the man he was, he usually tended to revert back to the intellectual approach of decision making. In this case, there was no right or wrong, no handbook or list of laws to show him the way.

"Well, you could always make a list of Pros and Cons for each choice."

Pros and Cons list? It was certainly a more mental way of deciding something. "Thanks, Ducky," he said sincerely. "I think that might be my best option."

Any further conversation on the subject was halted when Jimmy ran in, giving an apology and explanation as to why he was late. Tim bid Ducky good-bye, thanking him once again for his help, before slipping back up to the squad room.

As he settled back behind his desk, Tim was aware that he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder to see Director Vance standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him. It wasn't an intense stare, but rather a questioning look, one for which Tim did not yet have an answer.

In his mind, he heard the clock ticking, slowly edging toward Friday.


	5. Chapter 5

"McGee!" Gibbs barked as the team re-entered the squad room. "I want everything you can find on this scumbag!"

The team was on the trail of a nasty piece of work. The guy—P.O. Hansen—was wanted in connection to the rapes and murders of multiple women, including a fourteen-year-old girl. Gibbs was not taking the situation lightly, but then he rarely took any situations lightly.

"On it, boss," Tim readily replied, his fingers already flying across the keys. "I can hack into his file and then—"

"No," Gibbs said, interrupting him. "No, get the info from his C.O."

Tim looked up in shock. "But…but boss! Do you know how long that might take? I could do it quicker this way."

Two years ago, Gibbs would have had no problem with Tim hacking away into this and that. Hell, he'd even given the kid orders to hack into the CIA, possibly the most sacred of computer territory when it came to the American government. Nowadays, though, Gibbs tried not to push the envelope. It wasn't that he was afraid of getting a talking to from Vance—he'd had enough talking to's that he'd become an expert—but rather that he didn't want his team getting their hands dirty when it wasn't necessary. Even with a "Get Out of Jail Free" card, consequences for their actions loomed in the foreground. Some places didn't care what kind of a card you had on you if they caught you hacking into their system. He didn't need Tim dealing with that, even if the young agent was certain he wouldn't get caught.

"McGee, just call his C.O. and get the information," Gibbs ordered in a tone which left no room for debate.

Tim didn't argue, but he visibly slumped in his seat as he picked up the phone. This wasn't the first time his attempt to put his hacking skills to use had been shot down. In fact, it was something which had become more and more frequent in the past year. He found it funny. Five years prior, he would have been hesitant to hack into the local 7-11, let alone government files. Now that he had the guts to go through with it—not just the guts, but the desire!—it was suddenly forbidden territory.

He would never utter the words aloud, but in his mind he kept thinking, I bet they'd let me go the quick route over in L.A. His brief visit there indicated to him that their feelings on protocol leaned more towards those that Gibbs used to have: the end will justify the means. He couldn't help but wonder when the older agent had lost that particular motto.

Almost an hour later Tim finally hung up the phone. Reaching Captain Blair had been no easy task. From the way he was transferred from phone to phone and was kept waiting for ten minutes at a time with muzak filling his ear, one would think Captain Blair was the Secretary of the Navy, not a Captain in the Navy. "He said he'll have a messenger drop it by tomorrow, boss."

"Uh, did you remind him that his P.O. is a serial rapist and murderer, Probie?"

"Yeah, Tony," he said with a scornful glare in the older agent's direction, "I did. He didn't budge." In a moment of frustration, anger, and a slight bit of petulance, Tim added beneath his breath, "Maybe if I could have just hacked into his file…"

"What was that, McGee?" Gibbs asked, proving once again that his hearing was far keener than his eyesight.

Tim sighed resignedly. "Nothing, boss."

Gibbs took a moment to assess the situation. "Go home," he said finally. "We're not going to get anything else done tonight."

The three team mates exchanged glances. It wasn't like Gibbs to call it an early night, especially with scum like Hansen still roaming free. But the man had a point. There was little else they could get done tonight, so it was better to save their energy for the chase that would undoubtedly ensue the next day.

Tim grabbed his things, giving a forlorn look to his computer. He contemplated trying to get them further along at home, where Gibbs couldn't look over his shoulder, but he didn't want to risk something going wrong. Not that he thought it would—Tim took great pride in his skills and knew his own limitations—but on the slight chance something did happen, he knew he would incur Gibbs' wrath and, worse yet, his disappointment. That was worse than any punishment Vance could possibly dole out to him.

"McGee," Ziva said as she caught up to him. "The night is still youthful. No point in going home just yet. How about we catch a drink? My treat."

He shrugged. What else did he have to do?

* * *

The two ended up at a small bar where the only thing they played was country music and the closest they had to games was a worn out dartboard. They situated themselves at the far end of the bar for privacy. Ziva hadn't said much since her invitation for drinks and Tim hadn't tried to fill the silence himself. He had a feeling this was more than a social outing.

"It is interesting," she commented as after taking a sip of her margarita, "I have been back for nearly a year, and there were still so many changes in the short time I was gone." She took another sip. "Of course, it did not seem very short."

Tim had yet to drink his wine, opting instead to circle his index finger around the rim. "It didn't seem short for us either."

She nodded mutely. Tim hadn't really studied her much since her return to them. She had come back beaten and bloody. Her eye was swollen shut, her skin was still stained with blood, and she seemed much frailer than Tim had ever seen her. When he had seen her the first time upon her return to the states, he'd had to look away. He didn't want to associate that image with Ziva. Even when the bruises and swelling healed, he tried not to look at her more than was necessary.

Now when he looked at her, he saw traces of her torture still clinging to her. A scar above her right eyebrow which would never go away…a chipped tooth which he could only see when she smiled…a sadness in her eyes which he had never seen before. They seemed foreign on her, out of place.

"I just mean that everyone has changed so," she said, pulling him from his thoughts. "Tony is no longer a smartass playboy whose attentions can be diverted by a passing skirt. Gibbs is no longer a hard-boiled bad cop who believes that doing wrong for the right reason cancels it out. You are no longer a stuttering and shy computer geek who needs a book of rules to tell him how to best do his job."

"People change, Ziva. It's part of life."

"Yes, I know. I had only hoped things would stay the same for quite some time."

"Nothing stays the same." He finally took a swig of his wine. It was bitter.

"I suppose that is for the best," she said with a sigh. "We need variety and surprises."

"Like leaving a team." He hadn't meant to say it aloud. It wasn't an accusation or a criticism; merely a reflective point not only referring to her but to him as well.

"It was not an easy decision," she told him. "But one I felt was right at the time."

"Did you miss us even before…well…"

"Yes," she interrupted, saving him from having to recount her excruciating time spent in what she could only assume was hell. "I missed everyone the moment the plane took off. I took that to be my point of no return."

"You always could have caught a plane back and returned."

"Physically, yes. Emotionally and mentally, I was elsewhere. I missed you—all of you—but I did what I thought needed to be done, even if it was not the easiest choice."

Tim's mind went to his own current dilemma. Was this what needed to be done?

"But that is enough about me," she finally said. She knocked back the rest of her drink and placed the glass on the bar for a refill. "Now onto you."

"I don't have anything of interest happening in my life," he lied.

"So why have you been looking so sad and pensive?"

"You've been watching me?"

"I have been worried about you."

"Don't. I'm fine."

"You do not seem very convinced of that."

He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes. He knew he could never lie to Ziva and get away with it. "I've been…frustrated. I feel underused and out of place. It's like I'm not really necessary for the team anymore, just a superfluous agent to round out the number."

"Do you truly believe that, McGee?"

"Sometimes. It used to be me dashing to the computer to get the information one way or another."

"Your skills are still useful to us," she insisted. "Irreplaceable, in fact. We still need you to perform tasks which seem simple to you but are impossible to us."

He slumped on his stool. "It's just lost the rush of it all…the thrill!"

Rather than disagree, Ziva nodded. "Yes, sometimes even our professions become dull and predictable."

"I get the feeling you've never had a dull or predictable moment in your life, Ziva."

"You would be surprised, Timothy. Now tell me what is really bothering you."

"I told you. I feel like I need a change of pace."

"And what sort of pace are you looking for?" When he didn't reply, she spoke for him. "I am guessing something like the OSP team in L.A. would suit your fancy, yes?"

He looked at her in surprise. "How…"

"It was no secret to anyone how much you enjoyed it there, McGee. Even though my mind was pre-occupied in other areas, I saw the way your eyes lit up as you spoke about it, about the people and the gadgets. Especially the gadgets," she added with a slight smirk.

"They've got things we can only dream of!" he gushed. "Well, I guess I'd be the only one at NCIS dreaming of them, but you know what I mean!"

"And these little toys are not in the budget?" she surmised.

He shook his head sadly. "Not even close. And even if they were, they'd just go to waste out here. Not many of us would even know how to use them."

She finished off her second drink before giving him a pat on his arm. "I understand your longing, McGee. I do not wish for you to leave, but I am a great believer in signs. If something compels you back there…I would not resist."

Somehow, Ziva knew. She always knew. "What if it turns out to be the wrong choice?"

She smiled. "As you said, you can always catch a plane back."


	6. Chapter 6

Tim was in early on Friday, even for him. The previous night had been as restless as the ones before it had. He had too much on his mind to sleep. Finally, around four in the morning, he decided his time would be better spent at the office than flopping about in his bed. He'd been sitting at his desk for an hour with no one else there. No work had been done, though he _had_ begun researching apartment availability in L.A.—just as a precaution, of course.

"You're here early."

He jumped at the sound of the familiar voice. He'd been so absorbed in his research that he hadn't noticed Gibbs' entrance. He closed his search, hopping he didn't look too guilty.

"Working on the Hansen case?"

"Yes," Tim lied. "Captain Blair's info on the Petty Officer was on my desk when I got in." That much wasn't a lie. "I haven't gotten anything yet, though."

Gibbs nodded mutely. "When Tony and Ziva get in, they can go check out Hansen's place."

They both sat in silence. Gibbs was reading one of Tony's case reports; Tim was stealthily re-running his Google search on L.A. apartments.

"I never asked you about the CCU."

Tim looked up in confusion. "The what?"

"Cyber Crimes Unit," Gibbs said. "You were down there for…what? Three months? I never asked how it was."

He was blindsided by the question which had seemingly come out of nowhere. Tim hadn't thought much of it. After the team split, he had only really kept in contact with Abby, save for a few e-mails he'd exchanged with Ziva at the beginning of the split. She and Tony were miles away, her in an undercover op and him at sea with little communication abilities. It was no surprise the three of them lost contact with each other. Gibbs, though…well, he had really only been in a different section of the building. Keeping in touch wouldn't have been as difficult for him. In fact, the only time Gibbs had come down to see how Tim was doing was when he needed Tim to do something for him. But Tim couldn't judge; after all, he'd put forth little effort to keep in touch himself.

"That was two years ago, boss," Tim said with a shrug.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And how did you like it down there?"

Tim seriously considered the question. He was glad Tony and Ziva weren't there. If they had heard his pause, they would have latched onto it, questioning him on why he did not immediately respond. After all, the three months in which the team had been split had been some of the most horrible months of their lives and certainly the most horrible ones of their careers at NCIS…right?

"It was fine," he said noncommittally. "Just a bunch of geeks sitting around, looking at codes. Boring stuff, you know."

"Thought you loved that kind of stuff."

"_I_ do. I just meant boring for you."

"So you liked it?"

Tim couldn't understand where this was coming from. "I think out of all the reassignments, I got one of the better deals…" Did Gibbs know about the L.A. offer? Was he baiting him?

Gibbs' face broke into a rare smile. "Can't argue with you there. But it was different down in CCU than it was up here."

"Sure, yeah," Tim said with a shrug. "I mean, I was still working the same kinds of cases as I had been working up here, I just didn't ever go out into the field or shoot anyone. I just cracked codes."

"As I recall, you really only worked on one code. Or were there more that I also wasn't supposed to know about?"

Tim felt his face flush. It hadn't been easy keeping Vance's assignment a secret. He'd wanted to confide in Gibbs, especially after he'd realized the weight of the assignment and what it meant. It didn't take long to understand just how deep it ran and how important it was to crack.

"No…I mean, other than a couple of minor cases I worked on, the code was the bulk of my work."

Gibbs nodded. "You seemed to be the super star of the CCU," he commented. He recalled the other geeks down in CCU—the ones who'd never held a gun, let alone shot one. The closest they'd ever come to feeling danger was having their MMORPG character engage in war with an evil ogre or dragon or whatever creature was the villain in their chosen game.

Tim was having the same thoughts. "They just weren't used to someone like me being down there."

"They called you 'boss.'"

"I never asked them to."

"But you didn't tell them to stop."

It was true, he hadn't. Though he rolled his eyes at it, he'd been secretly delighted by the idea of being called 'boss.' He couldn't remember ever being to highly regarded at NCIS as he had been in the CCU.

"I figured it wasn't doing any harm," Tim said nonchalantly.

"So was it fun?"

"Fun? Being called 'boss'?"

"Being in the CCU. Being at a computer desk day in and day out cracking codes. Being at work and not having to deal with any name calling or rubber band fights or coked-up dogs attacking you."

"You think I didn't miss being on the team?" Tim asked, a slight tone of indignation creeping into his tone. "Because I did! Boss, I really did!"

"You can miss something while still enjoying what you already have. You think I didn't miss being here when I was sitting in a cantina, sipping beer?"

"Did you?"

Now it was Gibbs' turn to be put on the spot, but he didn't shy away from the question. "Now and then, yeah. I thought about hopping back on a plane and coming back. I knew they hadn't processed my paper work yet and getting the team back wouldn't be much of an issue."

"And then what?"

"Then I'd take another sip of beer and move onto the next thought that popped into my head."

"So you didn't really miss being here?"

"I missed it like hell, McGee. I wouldn't have come back if I didn't. But I won't deny that the months I spent in Mexico were some of the most relaxing I'd had in a while." When Tim didn't immediately respond, Gibbs went on. "There's nothing wrong with a change of pace. It doesn't make you a traitor to the team."

"Before…" Tim stopped uncertainly, then continued. "Before you left, had you ever felt…well…bored with the job?"

"I'd been here almost fifteen years by that point, McGee, what do you think?"

"I guess it's natural."

"Especially when you've just gotten a taste of something you find even more exciting."

Tim's head snapped up, thoughts of the seemingly oft-mentioned L.A. trip running through his mind. "What?"

Gibbs also looked up, though much more nonchalantly. "Franks. He'd been living a relaxing life in Mexico. I guess I got it in my head that what he was doing was what I should be doing. So I did it. And the novelty of it all eventually wore off."

Tim wanted to continue the conversation, not only because this was the most Gibbs had ever opened up to him—possibly the most Gibbs had opened up to _anyone_ regarding his temporary retirement—but also because he wanted Gibbs' take on his situation at hand, even if he had to ask for it in a round about manner. Unfortunately, the elevator bell dinged, signaling the arrival of more employees. Tim didn't want the talk to expand beyond a one-on-one conversation, so he went mute on the topic and returned to his "work."

In his mind he wondered, would the thrill of L.A. eventually wear off? Would he simply fall into a rut as he had here? He had only been in L.A. for a short amount of time and he was immediately biased due to the amount of technology they had. If he had stayed, would he have truly enjoyed it? And, if not, where would that leave him?

The clock of his watch ticked on, a reminder that his contemplation time was coming to an end.


	7. Chapter 7

"So then Sister Rosita got a 7-10 split and Father Hannigan started goading her, absolutely positive she couldn't pick up the spare."

"Priests are allowed to goad nuns?"

"I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the Bible against it, Tony. So anyway, she picks up the ball and she's got that look in her eyes as she studies the pins and…McGee!"

Tim looked up from his plate of uneaten food and found himself face to face with an annoyed Abby.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asked.

"Of course…you're talking about…" There were several different subjects Abby could be discussing, so it was just a matter of luck guessing. "Uh, you were talking about Brain Matter?"

The narrowing of Abby's eyes coupled with the sad shake of Tony's head indicated he had guessed incorrectly.

"I was talking about my bowling night!"

He sighed and dropped his fork. He had been using it to push the various food items around on his plate. "Sorry, Abbs, I guess I got distracted."

"By meatloaf?"

"I've just got a lot on my mind right now." It was after 1:00pm and Tim had precious little time to make his decision.

She wasn't impressed by his excuse. "You didn't have to have lunch with us," she told him with a pout. "If you're too busy for us you could have just said so."

He groaned, not wanting to get into a childish and petty spat with Abby. "I'm not too busy for you. I was glad to come to lunch." And it was true. When Abby had suggested the three of them try out the new diner three blocks down Tim figured it may help take his mind off the matter at hand. After all, Abby's incessant chatter could take anyone's mind off of anything…usually.

"I've just been tired lately," he continued before stifling a yawn.

Abby leaned across the table and, placing her index finger on his eyelid and her thumb in the small bag which had formed beneath his eye, opened his eye up and studied it. "Are you sick?"

He swatted her hand away in annoyance and rubbed his eye. "No, I've just had a lot on my mind."

"Hey, don't sweat it about the Hansen case," Tony said. "We'll catch the guy."

Tim opened his mouth with the intention of telling Tony that his lack of sleep had begun days before the team ever even heard about Hansen, but he stopped himself mid-word. He knew that there would be questions from both of them regarding his lack of sleep and he wouldn't be able to lie, especially not to Abby. It was simpler to write it off as concern over a rapist and murderer still being at large. So he just shrugged instead.

"Ooo, I can't blame you for losing sleep over that scum bag," Abby agreed, all anger she'd had seconds ago dissipating from her body and mind. "Just thinking about him gives me the heebie-jeebies!" She shivered as if to prove her point.

Tim resumed poking at his food with a fork while Tony and Abby talked about the case. Neither noticed his utter disinterest in the conversation. It frustrated him that he was no nearer to a decision than he had been days before. He'd even taken Ducky's advice and had written a list of pros and cons:

**Pros:**

L.A. has great gadgets

It's a change of pace

It doesn't get so cold there

No more McNicknames

Will work more with computers and feel like I'm putting my degrees to better use

**Cons:**

Leaving behind the team

Have to adapt to a new place and new coworkers

Moving will be a hassle

Have to fine a new apartment

Probably won't spend as much time in the field

Ducky had never mentioned what to do in the event of a tie.

"You gonna eat that meatloaf, Probie, or are you just going to poke at it?"

Tim wordlessly handed the food over to Tony. The other agent took it with a look of surprise. "You sure you're not sick?"

"Not much of an appetite," he said.

They eyed him suspiciously and Tim knew the questions were about to come. He decided to change the subject – quickly! "I heard you got another job offer, Abbs."

The Goth shot Tony a withering glance, having already guessed that he was the one spreading the word about it. "I did," she admitted.

"You going to take it?"

She looked at Tim in surprise, shocked that he could even think she'd consider taking another job. "Of course, not, Timmy! We finally got the team back together! I couldn't possibly leave now!"

"We got the team back together a while ago, Abbs."

"Not the point!" she snapped. "We're a team and we stick together."

"So you're saying you'd never leave?" he questioned.

"No! At least…at least not right now." Her answer surprised both men. It even surprised Abby a bit. "I mean, I love this job! How could I leave?"

"So if you stopped loving it, you'd leave?"

She folded her arms and shrugged. Abby didn't like being put on the spot. "I guess if I got bored with it I might leave, but I'm _not_ bored," she told him pointedly, just in case he had the audacity to ask.

"But if you got bored with it…you would."

Tony's eyes were wide as they darted back and forth between Tim and Abby. "Jeez, what's with you, McSourPuss? What's with all the questions."

Tim sighed. "Nothing…just curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat." Abby's comment held no playfulness or joking.

"Can we just forget it?" he asked.

They agreed to drop the subject, the mood was dampened. Minutes later, Abby excused herself, claiming she had forgotten about some tests she had to run. This left Tim and Tony together, neither much in the mood for conversation. They forced out a few comments about the case as Tony finished eating, but had little else to say.

"I think I'll head back to," Tim said quietly as he grabbed his things. He hoped Tony would try to stop him; he didn't.

* * *

The clock ticked by the seconds as the big hand got closer to the twelve and the little hand got closer to the nine. Tim stood outside the door to Vance's office. In his mind, he recalled the snippets of conversations from the days past; things said, advice given, comments made…

… _I know you're a very academically inclined person and the work of a field agent can sometimes lean more to the physical side. I would hate for you to get bored with your work…_

…_Well, I think the last thing we need are more egg-heads..._

…_sometimes the question you should ask yourself isn't where you are necessarily happiest, but where you believe your skills are best utilized…_

…_If something compels you back there…I would not resist…_

…_I guess I got it in my head that what he was doing was what I should be doing. So I did it. And the novelty of it all eventually wore off…_

…_We're a team and we stick together…_

He took a few breaths, certain he was making the right choice. Then he strode into Vance's office.

The director looked up as Tim entered. He didn't say anything; he simply watched expectantly.

"Director Vance…I've made my decision…"


	8. Chapter 8

_Monday_

"I am just saying that for all your teasing McGee of seeming homosexual for getting a manicure, it is funny that you enjoy watching a sport in which men in tight pants tackle each other to the ground."

"Apples and oranges, Ziva!"

"Who said anything about fruit?"

Tony rolled his eyes as they stepped off the elevator. "I mean that the two have nothing to do with each other."

She mimicked his eye roll as she dropped her things at her desk. The bull pen was empty, save for them. "It would seem have beat McGee here today," she commented, nodding towards his empty desk.

"You notice he's been looking weird lately?"

"I would not say weird; different, perhaps.'

"Different is weird."

"Apples and oranges, Tony."

He grunted in frustration. It was bad enough when Ziva didn't understand an American idiom he'd used; it was worse when she then tried to use it. "That's not the correct use of the term."

"You said it meant two things have nothing to do with each other. Weird and different have nothing to do with each other."

Tony didn't respond, opting instead to rifle through Tim's desk drawers. He hadn't done it in quite some time, due to many factors, including lack of opportunity. But with Tim not present, the senior agent was intent on figuring out what was bothering the younger man. "Well, there're no drugs or anything," he said with more than a little relief in his voice.

"Were you expecting a baggie of cocaine?"

"Don't know. Just something to explain McDowner's sudden mood change." He opened another drawer and furrowed his brow. He opened another…and then another…and another… "His desk is completely empty."

"Perhaps he is doing spring cleaning."

"It's summer, Ziva."

"Agent DiNozzo!" a voice bellowed. Tony spun around to see Vance looking at him from his place atop the stairs. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

Tony smoothly slammed the desk drawer shut. "No, sir. Just wanted to borrow a paper clip from McGee. I'm out."

Vance arched an eyebrow. A ding sounded from the elevator and Gibbs stepped out. "Good, you're all here."

"Actually, sir, McGee isn't here yet."

"He won't be, Agent DiNozzo."

Normally such a comment would indicate that Tim was out sick or working on a special project—i.e. fixing a computer—for Vance or another higher-up. But the weight with which Vance said it commanded their attention. Something was wrong.

"An opening for an agent of McGee's status and skills opened up in L.A. After much consideration on his part, he chose to accept the job. His plane leaves this morning."

They were speechless, none more so than Tony. Ziva and Gibbs had had inklings that something like this had been weighing on Tim's mind the past week, though they were still shocked all the same. Tony, though, had assumed Tim's issue had been more personal and closer to home. Never had he imagined…

"He left NCIS?" Tony cried in betrayal.

"He is still with NCIS, DiNozzo. He's with another agency." No one said anything, so Vance continued. "If you'd like, Gibbs, I've got a few agents I could assign to your team. Techies like McGee." Gibbs gave him a dour look; they may be techies, but no one could be like McGee. "Or," Vance conceded in light of the look, "if you'd prefer, you can stick with just you, David, and DiNozzo. It's your call."

Gibbs didn't respond. Vance returned to his office.

They stood in silence, eyes focused on the now abandoned desk, abandoned by their teammate. _Former_ teammate. It had only been two days ago that Tim had been sitting there, his agile fingers flying across his keyboard with a light _tap-tap-tap_. His absence made the atmosphere eerily quiet.

Ziva cleared her throat, catching the attention of her male teammates. "I suggest we draw straws."

"For what?" Tony asked.

"For who gets the unenviable task of telling Abby."

* * *

Tim wondered if his team had found out yet. A quick look at his watch showed that it was a little after nine. They had to know by now. It had been cowardly to run off without telling any of them. He hadn't been in the mood to be brave and noble about it; they would just go on the defensive and try to convince him to stay. He was just glad he was required to turn off his cell phone for the flight. The last thing he needed was an array of calls from them, filled, no doubt, with anger and tears—both, he knew, he deserved. Of course, he couldn't avoid them forever. He anticipated a voice mail full of messages as soon as he turned his phone back on. Maybe he'd wait until he'd gotten settled in before turning the phone on. Maybe he'd just delete the messages altogether. Probably not.

Despite what they probably thought, it hadn't been an easy decision for him to make. When he'd walked into Vance's office on Friday evening he'd had every intention of turning down the offer and staying in D.C. But then, just as the words were about to leave his mouth, Tim thought back to his time at MIT and at Johns Hopkins. When he'd told his professors that he intended to go into law enforcement and become a special agent, they had been aghast. A brilliant mind like Tim's, wasting away as he shot bad guys and interrogated suspects? They thought for sure he could get a high paying job at the Pentagon, putting his incredible intellect and knack for puzzles and mathematic and numbers to use. Or, they amended, he could work in law enforcement, putting his computer capabilities to use as he tracked cyber criminals like online pedophiles and embezzlers. It got the job done without needing a gun. It also, in Tim's mind, was boring.

When Tim had enrolled at FLETC, he had pushed past the doubts—his professors' and his own—and had gone with his gut. It had paid off for him. Where, he wondered, would he be now if he had allowed himself to be pushed into a career he didn't want? If he had followed the advice of his professors, had taken the easy road, what would his life be? Certainly he wouldn't have gotten the fulfillment he'd gotten from working at NCIS for the past seven years.

Picking up and leaving takes a lot of guts, guts he would have never had four years earlier. Now…now he had learned a lot from Gibbs and Tony and Ziva and Kate. He'd even learned a thing or two from Abby and Ducky. He valued those lessons. He intended to take them with him to the west coast. One of the biggest lessons he'd learned in his six years working on Gibbs' team was that sometimes it was good to take a risk, to take the hard road. Sometimes, you just had to go with your gut.

The thought didn't completely absolve the guilt he felt as the plane took off into the sky.

* * *

**AN:** I apologize for the lateness of this chapter! There were problems with the website and I flew home today after two months, so I'm late. One more chapter still to go, though!


	9. Chapter 9

"…and I just want to say that we all wish you the best of luck in your new venture," Ziva said before the beep of Tim's voice mail signified that the time for her message had run out. Her voice was shaky, her eyes full of sadness, but she meant the words she said. Honest she did.

"So I wonder who it'll be next year."

She flipped her phone closed and looked at Tony. He was still seething with anger. She wondered what Tim would say to see the older agent who had made such a spectacle of tormenting him day out and day in now ruing his sudden departure. "Who what will be?"

"Who'll leave," he said snidely. "Seems like we can't keep the team together for more than a year. By my count, Gibbs and me had one, you and McGee have had two. Maybe Abby next time? Or maybe Ducky will retire. What do you think?"

"Tony, McGee did not leave. He…he just transferred."

"He left! And I hope he likes it out in L.A." Tony said with no sincerity. "It's just the place for a guy like him, huh?"

"No need to be angry."

"I wonder if he knows Abby cried," Tony continued without acknowledging Ziva's statement. "Wonder how it'll feel for him to have that on his conscience."

"Is this how you reacted when I stayed in Israel?" she snapped, her ire now matching his. Ziva didn't like Tim's absence any more than anyone else, but she understood. Sometimes, there were things a person needed to do. It wasn't always the popular choice, nor did it always make everyone happy. "So anyone who tries something new it a traitor to NCIS, Tony?"

"If he cared he would have stayed, Ziva! We didn't choose our reassignments when Vance doled them out. McGee chose this, though. He chose to leave!"

"Stop being so selfish! Can't you for once be happy for someone else, even if it's not what you want?"

"Hey!" The voice was gruff and stern and echoed through the squad room. Gibbs stood there, coffee in hand, glaring at the two of them the way a parent glares at bickering children. "I can hear you both down the hallway. This is not a high school, this is a federal agency, so I expect my team to behave with professionalism. Is that understood?"

They nodded mutely.

"I don't want to hear anything more about McGee and L.A. We all have our choices to make and he's made his. Now we've got a case to solve."

******************************

Up in his office, Vance's speaker came to life with a harsh crackle. "Assistant Director Rowan is on line two, sir."

Vance thanked his secretary and picked up the phone. "Rowan," he greeted with a grin as he gnawed his toothpick. "How are things down in sunny L.A.?"

Gregory Rowan had usurped Vance's duties after he had been made the new NCIS Director. He oversaw the L.A. headquarters.

"Just fine, Vance. How's Jackie?"

"She's just fine. Took the kids to Florida for a week. They're visiting her parents."

"And you're stuck in that stuff office?"

"Duty calls, Rowan. I'm sure you know all about that."

Rowan laughed. "I certainly do. Now I'm calling about your e-mail…"

******************************

Tim had arrived and obtained his luggage from the carousel. His phone was still off; he planned to avoid the inevitable for as long as he could. He walked through the crowd and smiled in relief. At the end of the baggage claim area was a muscular man holding a sign reading "Timothy McGee." He'd been told that someone would pick him up at the airport.

"You Timothy McGee?" the man asked as Tim approached.

"Last I checked," he quipped. "Here and ready to report for duty. Though, if possible, I'd prefer to drop off my things at my hotel." He was still apartment searching and had reserved a hotel room for the time being.

The man smiled—a mouth full of white, shinning teeth—and stepped to the side, stretching his arm out towards the door. "Let's get to it, then!"

******************************

"Do you think he'll came back, Tony?"

"I told you, I don't know, Abbs."

She pouted. Her cheeks were still stained with tears and runny mascara.

"I hope he does."

Tony was silent for a moment.

"I hope he does too, Abbs."

******************************

"What e-mail would that be?"

"Well, I just got in this morning from my own vacation week and there was e-mail from you saying your Agent McGee had accepted the position with our OSP team."

Vance grinned proudly. "I'm sure you'll find him a great asset to the team."

******************************

The man led Tim outside to where a black van with dark windows was parked. The man took Tim's bags and loaded them into the back before opening the door for him. He slid in and buckled himself in.

Once he was settled in, he extracted his cell phone from his jeans pocket and turned it on. He waited for it to fully boot. He had four voice mails, just waiting for him to listen to them.

It was time to face the music.

******************************

Ziva gave Tim's abandoned desk and mournful look. She had suspected, of course, particularly after the discussion they'd had over drinks the week before. She had tried to convince herself that he would never leave.

You can always catch a plane back, she had told him. She had meant that.

She shook her head. L.A. wouldn't work out for him, she decided. He would be back.

******************************

"I don't doubt that Vance. I didn't have the pleasure of meeting him, but the team was quite taken with him. I've no doubt they would love to have him join the team."

"So it's approval all around," Vance said, not certain where Rowan was going with this.

The other line was silent for a moment as Rowan tried to best orate his problem. "Vance…I never sent you a message about an opening on the OSP team…"

******************************

Before he could press the button for his voice mail, a hand came up from behind his seat and covered his nose and mouth with a damp rag, pinning him back to his seat. The rag smelled sickeningly sweet.

He struggled to free himself, but the hand held strong. The tinted windows hid his struggle from the people outside.

His mind grew hazy.

******************************

"Get McGee on the phone!" Vance shouted. He had burst from his office like a bat out of hell and was taking the steps two or three at a time.

"I've already tried to call him," Ziva said. "His phone was turned off for the flight."

Gibbs saw the panic in the director's eyes. It made his gut churn. "Vance?"

Their eyes met. Vance bit down hard on his toothpick.

"I have reason to believe we were led astray."

******************************

Tim felt himself succumbing to the darkness. His muscles went limp and he melted into his seat like ice cream. His hand—the hand which was holding his cell phone—fell to the side and the phone slipped from his grasp.

It hit the ground ringing.

On the display screen it read **Gibbs**.

Tim didn't see the name. He was out like a light.

* * *

**AN:** That's the end of this story. Don't worry, though! I'm already working on a sequel. There's no way I could leave you guys just hanging like that! Thanks for reading this one and keep an eye out for the sequel!


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